


The Remedy

by Teatime86



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, M/M, Smut, also we're going with the slade actually saved everyone on lian yu, arrow 6x05 deleted scene, arrowstroke, joe's fake death, oliver and felicity ain't back together in this fic, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-17 06:31:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17555147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teatime86/pseuds/Teatime86
Summary: AU 6x05. Oliver tries to comfort Slade after telling him about Joe's (apparent) death. Things don't go exactly the way he intended.





	The Remedy

**Author's Note:**

> i came up with this fic like a long time ago and finally got around to writing it. had some fun rewatching arrow 6x05-06 while doing so. obviously oliver and felicity are not back together in this fic and also this is going to be a companion/prequel to a larger s6 AU i've begun writing and may start posting sometime in the near future.  
> disclaimer: obv don't own arrow or any of its characters. and don't own some of the dialogue in here since i ripped it straight from the episode.

“What are you doing back here?” Slade asked as Oliver walked back through the hotel door, still clutching the same briefcase as when he’d left.

Oliver wasn’t immediately forthcoming with a response, trying to decide how best to tell Slade what he’d found out at the prison. When Slade had asked him for his help in tracking his son down, he didn’t think it would turn out that he was gone, and he didn’t know how Slade would react.

“Where is my son?” Slade pressed when Oliver didn’t speak, turning fully away from the window. Oliver knew he couldn’t stall: he had to tell Slade the truth.

“There was a, uh, a fight in the prison yard,” he hesitated, licking his lips uneasily before continuing. “Joe tried to break it up. Someone pushed, and he hit his head. He’s gone.”

Slade’s face fell, mouth compressing into a grim line. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting that.

Oliver didn’t know what to say as he walked slowly into the other end of the room and sank down onto his bed. He’d only seen Slade grieving once, when he’d come upon Shado’s body after Ivo had shot her-but this was different. The Mirakuru had been heightening his worst emotions, then, making it all about the anger and desire for revenge. Now, without it, what Oliver saw instead was genuine sadness and regret.

“It wasn’t your fault, Slade,” he said lowly, sitting down on the bed next to his companion and attempting to offer some form of comfort.

At first, Slade didn’t seem to hear him, his jaw clenched, and his attention focused on withdrawing his phone from his jacket pocket, unlocking the device and going to an old photo.

“He never knew,” he declared in a quiet, anguished tone, holding his phone up in slightly trembling hands.

“Never knew what?” Oliver asked.

Slade sighed.

“That I loved him,” he finished, breaths wavering with unconcealed grief; Oliver thought he could even see a tear forming in his good eye.

“Sure, he did, Slade,” he assured the elder firmly.

“I can’t remember the last time I told him,” Slade said wistfully.

“Well, you were his father. Trust me, he knew,” Oliver told him, but he could see that it wasn’t really helping. He couldn’t stand to see this, this man who’d he’d always known to be so strong, breaking down and beating himself up over something he couldn’t have stopped. He couldn’t look away from Slade’s face, from his uncharacteristically trembling lips. He wanted to do more, wanted to give Slade something more than words to help assuage his grief, but he didn’t know what else he could offer.

As Oliver wrestled with that, Slade looked back at him, his one eye flicking back and forth over Oliver’s face as if searching for something.

When he kissed him, it was completely out of left field. Oliver didn’t know what to do; he’d thought about this before-more than once-but now didn’t really seem like the right time. Slade was vulnerable and probably just looking for something to hold onto, something to drown out the pain, and Oliver didn’t think that letting Slade use him as a coping mechanism was something that either of them was going to feel good about-no matter how much he might want it.

“Slade,” he rasped, forcing himself to push the elder man away with an extreme effort, shaking his head. “We can’t do this. You’re hurting over Joe, and I-I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Slade let out a heavy, strangely amused-sounding breath, his face still centimeters away from Oliver’s. The haunted look had vanished from his eye, replaced with something else-something Oliver couldn’t identify.

“Trust me, kid, you’re not,” he said gruffly, extending his hand to cup the side of Oliver’s neck and pulling the younger forward.

The husky tone in his voice made Oliver hesitate again, made his resolve to keep his distance waver-and when Slade touched him, it died completely.

He surged forward again instinctively, and their mouths crashed together. Emboldened by Oliver’s reciprocation, Slade’s grip on his neck tightened, and he took control, claiming Oliver’s lips, hot and fierce and insistent in a way that made the younger’s head spin.

Oliver moaned unwillingly, his own hands coming up and fingers digging into Slade’s leather-clad shoulders. This wasn’t like kissing Laurel or Felicity or anyone else: the rough scratch of Slade’s beard and the hard, muscled chest pressing against his own was something he’d never experienced before, and it was better than he ever imagined.

When his lips part, Slade exploited it, slipping his tongue inside and roaming every inch of the unfamiliar territory like he was trying to memorize it. The heat consuming Oliver grew more intense as Slade’s calloused palms dragged over the sides of his neck and the front of his shoulders to the knot in his tie.

“ _Slade_ ,” he said the other man’s name again, this time in a ragged gasp, his own hands going to the lapels of Slade’s jacket, clenching white until, before he knew what he was doing, he was shoving the material off Slade’s shoulders.

Slade chuckled roughly, teeth scraping along Oliver’s bottom lip as he shrugged the jacket off, letting it fall to the floor. He undid Oliver’s tie soon after, unwinding it and discarding it to the side before hovering over the buttons of Oliver’s dress shirt.

“If you want me to stop, tell me now,” Slade spoke then, voice practically a growl as he loomed over Oliver, who was now lying flat on the bed with Slade half on top of him.

Oliver’s breath was thready and his heart was pounding; he was aroused beyond anything he’d ever felt before and it was robbing him of words. So, he responded with actions, going for the hem of Slade’s shirt and pushing it up his chest.

Slade chuckled again, running a lax mouth over Oliver’s cheek, his jaw, stopping at his ear.

“I guess I’ll take that as a ‘no’,” he murmured, allowing Oliver to pull his shirt over his head, then resuming his previous move, starting to on the buttons of Oliver’s dress shirt.

Oliver arched off the bed as Slade’s mouth descended on his again at the same time, his tongue back, brushing the tip of Oliver’s, then sliding against it. Oliver’s moved as well, sucking it deeper and inhaling sharply when Slade growled again, getting his shirt open and bringing their bare chests into firm contact. Oliver’s nails bit into Slade’s lower back, leaving crescent-shaped indents in the skin as he tried to tug him closer.

His knee hooked over Slade’s hip and Slade mouthed his way along his jawline again, following the same path as his hands earlier, stopping at his collarbone, sucking the skin there in between his teeth and biting down.

Oliver threw his head back, hips bucking up as Slade ground down, fingers curling around Oliver’s thighs and lifting him higher so he could feel Slade’s answering hardness.

Their hips ground together, and one of Slade’s hands got between their bodies, fumbling with the buckle of Oliver’s belt as his mouth continued to leave marks along his throat like new locations on a map. He returned the favour, undoing Slade’s pants as Slade opened his, both of them shifting out them in record time.

There was nothing between them now, just skin on skin, and Oliver grew even harder as their cocks rubbed together, the sensation foreign but, _god_ , so hot. This had gone a lot further than Oliver thought it would, than he knew it _should_ , but he’d had a chance to back out and he hadn’t taken it; he didn’t want to now.

His breath left him in a rush as Slade’s mouth went back to his for a third time, bruising, and Oliver kissed back the same way, scratching deeper lines into Slade’s back as he stroked the inside of his thigh, fingers moving further inward.

“Kid,” he rasped, nipping at Oliver’s lips as he traced his entrance, wringing another strangled gasp from the archer.

“Are you ever going to stop calling me that?” Oliver retorted, trying for cheeky, but it came out as a hoarse pant as his hips rose and his erection dragged over Slade’s stomach.

The Australian merely gave another throaty laugh, reaching over Oliver’s head to pull a bottle of lotion off the nightstand. Oliver heard it click open, then felt Slade’s fingers back between his thighs, now slick as they pressed in, a slow, smooth motion.

Oliver hissed and rocked into it immediately, trying as hard as he could to ride it. Slade pulls the digit out, though, then replaces it with two before Oliver could complain. He scissored them together, and there was pain, but there was also pleasure, licking up Oliver’s spine and eliciting more gasps. He rocked back and forth as Slade worked his fingers deeper, crooking them until he found Oliver’s prostate, causing him to let out an involuntary yelp.

Slade slid in a third digit, picking up the pace and thrusting all three in and out of Oliver rapidly and determinedly, twisting and sending shocks of electricity and more heat roiling through him.

“ _Slade_ ,” he pleaded desperately, legs shaking. “ _Do it,_ ”

Slade let out another growl, tongue on the roof of Oliver’s mouth, licking his way further in. He pulled his fingers out again, leaving Oliver gaping an empty-but only for a second. The digits were quickly replaced by the thick, blunt head of Slade’s cock.

The stretch burned, but as Oliver hitched his thigh up higher and as he was given time to adjust, he felt it coil in his stomach, becoming overwhelming and he wanted more.

“I’m ready,” he finally found the words to voice it, but still stumbled over them, hands scrabbling at Slade’s waist, trying to get him to move.

He felt Slade smile, his lower lip bumping against Oliver’s top one; he took Oliver at his word and began to roll his hips, pulling out nearly all the way before pushing back in, bringing stars to Oliver’s eyes.

The pace he set was punishing, slamming into Oliver hard enough that the air was filled with the sound of flesh meeting flesh. Oliver couldn’t hold in a noise like he was dying; the sensations were alien and amazing and he didn’t know why they waited so long.

Oh, wait. Yes, he did.

He pushed those thoughts, all of his thoughts away and just let himself feel, bucking his own hips forward to meet Slade thrust for thrust. He felt as well as heard Slade cursing into his mouth as he sped up even more, pumping into Oliver like a well-oiled machine, smooth and slick and deep.

Oliver whined uncharacteristically when Slade changed angle, finding that spot inside of him again. Stars burst in his vision again; it darkened as he hit that spot over and over, and Oliver’s cock was aching now, throbbing and dripping with precome. He thought Slade needed this, but now he did as well; he needed Slade to touch him and he needed it now.

Slade seemed to sense what he wanted because his hand skimmed along Oliver’s abdomen then, slipping down to wrap around his rigid length. Oliver grunted as Slade began to stroke him in tandem with the rhythm of his hips. His breathing came out harsher, punching out of him while the coil in him builds higher and tighter, and in one, two, three tugs, it reached its peak, and Oliver came hard, spilling over Slade’s fingers and his own stomach.

He clenched tight around Slade, and the elder let out a grunt of his own, no longer able to stay on pace. His movements become sloppier and more erratic, and when Oliver pushed back one last time, he gave a muffled groan and came as well, filling Oliver to the brim.

They rode out their orgasms, both of them still moving until they’d ridden out every last drop.

Slade stilled then, mouth slipping from Oliver’s as he slumped on top of him, breath warm and heavy against Oliver’s racing pulse.

Oliver exhaled heavily, caressing Slade’s back as his legs fell back onto the bed on either side of Slade’s. The two of them were motionless for a moment, panting and sweaty and Oliver trembling slightly.

Slade finally pulled out after, rolling next to him. There was silence for another few seconds, then he let out a tiny sigh, running his fingers over his eyepatch.

“I should have gone with you to the prison,” he stated. “I know it wouldn’t have made any difference, but at least I could have seen him, said goodbye.”

Oliver wet his lips, scrubbing a hand down his face, trying to get his breathing back under control. He thought this would help, but apparently, it hadn’t. Only one thing could.

He shifted nearer to Slade, laying a tentative hand on his arm.

“We still can,” he said consolingly, not meeting Slade’s gaze, so he wouldn’t see how much what they’d just done had affected him. “You can still say goodbye, Slade.”

Slade tilted his chin down, forcing Oliver to meet his eye, so he could see the brown darken an instant before Slade gave the tiniest, grateful nod.

They didn’t talk about what happened; they just cleaned themselves up and dressed before heading back to the prison. They had a body to see.


End file.
